The Neverending Sacrifice
by Obsu
Summary: Through the Knight's sacrifice, the Absolute Radiance was finally defeated in the Trials of Godhome. Its light forever banished from Hallownest. One by one, the bugs regained sentience, and slowly returned to their lives. Follow the story of the Chosen Vessel, who has yet to recover his identity and face the magnitude of his failures, while a new threat looms over the horizon.
1. Chapter 1 - Ghost in the Shell

OOC: Hello! My name is Obsu, and this is my first story around here! The story you are about to read is dedicated to the Chosen Vessel, aka The Hollow Knight, who was selected to contain the Radiance, but ultimately failed in his mission. The idea was inspired by one of the Godseeker endings, where we can see THK stumbling out of the Black Egg, alive. Hope you enjoy my work! I will upload new chapters once a week, maybe more, if time allows. If you have anything to share with me or others, feel free to review!

Yours, Obsu.

* * *

Chapter 1: Ghost in the Shell

"**You should not have survived, Broken Mask…" **

Darkness poured out of the shattered barrier like blood from a wound. The door to the Black Egg was opened. The yellow plant-like strands of the infection lost their color, turning brown, and breaking off under their own weight, crumpling to the ground, becoming dust. The Forgotten Crossroads, once more, enjoyed the same lifeless twilight they had for many years. Guarding a dead, empty shell. Well, almost dead. Behind the broken seal of the Egg, consumed by darkness, something … stirred.

Sharp, piercing pain. Like something jammed into your chest, time and time again. With viciousness of someone pressed into a corner. That was what the world greeted the creature with. But no sound escaped it, no cry for help. Only silence. And scraping, scraping against the stones and dried roots with chitinous fingers, as it strived to sit up. Soon, it did, and the hand, now free, reached for the chest. Trying to close the gaps that ached so much. It met a silken barrier, woven over the shell like bandages. Tight fit. Hard to remove. Meant to stay. The creature did not attempt to remove them. Instead, the fingers passed up. Their sharp tips stumbling over every nick and crack on its way. There were so many, as if it was pelted with countless blows.

Another bandage. This time, over the eye. Or… where the eye was supposed to be. Was hard to tell. Only dull pain that spread its roots deep behind the white, bony mask. The motions were slow, careful. Almost sluggish, as if it has been a while it had to move a muscle. Its head turned, eyeing the dim twilight coming from the broken-down door. So bright, it felt to the creature. Fresh air blowing through the crack with a small wind. Dust particles flying and glistening in the pale, lifeless rays. So frightening, so unknown. Maybe stay here, where it is so safe, so familiar. As if a hundred years had passed, and every shadow, every root, every crack on the wall was already studied. And yet, there was no attachment to this place, like one would hold to a beloved home.

No, the twilight from beyond called towards… something. Something unknown, something better. With a silent grunt, the creature stood up. The first step made it tumble, a sharp pain piercing through the knee. It was damaged, too. The limping march towards the light was stopped only when something glimpsed, briefly reflecting the light. Like a droplet of water, or a tear. A plea, begging not to leave it in darkness. The creature tumbled towards it, in a hushed hurry, collapsing on its knees as one of the legs gave way. Hands… no, one hand falling upon the object, whatever it was. Cold hard steel, the creature felt its chill. A blade that had as many nicks as its own shell. The hand ran over its impressive length, until finding the weathered hilt. Fingers wrapping over it, finding the little grooves meant for them.

_A nail… Mine?_

The first thought it ever had, in a long while. Hard to remember. Hard to think. And yet… it looked at the nail with pity. Nothing deserved staying in this place. Using it as a crutch, with the tip biting into stone tiles under the weight, the creature would leave the cracked shell of the Black Egg. Hallownest welcomed it with wind blowing into its bony face. The one, whose sacrifice was supposed to make the kingdom last eternal.

But didn't.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Higher They Climb

Chapter 2 – The Higher They Climb…

Voices.

They were echoing from above, bouncing from wall to wall. Mixing up with the winds blowing through the chasms, with one another, becoming distorted, becoming howls. The imagination drew beasts with giant maws, sharp mandibles, and thousands of legs, skittering against the rocks. These sounds were coming from that brighter circle, where the twilight poured into the caverns below.

It was the mouth of a well. Three dots of light hovering above it. That was the origin of the noise. Howls came through the vertical tunnel, the taste of air like the sweetest nectar on dry lips. A chain went all the way down, rattling in the wind, from time to time. It was a life line. The creature stared at the chain from down below. Staying there for a long time, hiding its battered form covered by cloth. Barely enough to cover one shoulder. Holes all over. Its color brown-gray, from all the dirt and dust clinging to the fabrics, so much it was impossible to tell the garment's original color. It was held around the neck by a brooch, with a gem that was no longer bright, the metal surrounding it battered, bent, and rusted.

There was a choice. Either up, through the mouth of the well, or down into that chasm, wherever it led. The creature would turn from the light, and stare into its darkness instead, with its only eye. No matter where 'It' looked, the air felt trapped in its throat, larynx trembling. Go deeper down, or towards the light above? The darkness stared right back, forcing the creature away, limping. Other times, 'It' would reach towards the chain, pulling lightly, hearing the links creak a little under the weight of its hand. Maybe go back to the Egg? It was familiar there, safe… The tall creature shook its head, almost violently. Its hand reaching for the nail, planted into the ground. It would be pulled out, and placed on the back, piercing the cloth, and having the hilt bite into it.

Nothing should occupy the only hand 'It' had left.

Slowly approaching the chain, for the Nth time, the creature would finally dare it. Reaching as far as it could, and pulling itself up, with its only arm. Legs wrapped around the chain as well, trying to push. Bad idea. The crippling pain in the joint almost made it scream. But there was silence. Chitinous fingers clung to the chain, as the slow, grueling ascending has begun.

_Old tomb… No… I won't stay…_

The chain rattled under the creature's weight, but held, for now. It was meant to hold buckets, not beings like itself. The climber began to shift, swinging oneself on the chain, back and forth. The foot shot forward, to try and get some traction with the mossy, slippery wall of the well. A few times, it slipped over the moss. The fingers ached, but remained staunchly locked around the chain. They could not let go. The creature knew, if it would fall, it would not get up again. On the fourth try, finally, the foot planted against one of the walls enough to allow the being to pull itself up, bit by bit.

_What now? _

For a brief moment, 'It' did not know. If only its other arm was there, this ordeal would have been so much easier. But it was gone. Sometimes, the creature felt its ghost. But no matter how many hopeful stares were shot to the left, the picture remained the same - a short stump, covered in white, silken bandages. It was of no help here.

"…"

The arm launched upwards once more. Before gravity could take hold, the hand grabbed the chain a bit higher than before. The leg slipped off the wall, and the entire body hung limp. The links whined and gritted against one another. The creature looked up, at the light, which was drawing closer. Not a yellow kind of light, but a cold, pale one. Like that of a Luma fly. That realization filled the creature with thoughts of safety and hope. Once more, it rocked the chain, and planted the foot unto its wall. Once more, it would repeat the maneuver.

**Scccccrtzt!**

Its hand would slip down the slippery metal chain links. The fingers would tighten around them, increasing the traction, and stopping the fall. The creature clenched its eye shut, briefly. The shoulder joint almost popped out of its socket. It hurt, and yet… it held. It had to. Everything was going to be alright. Been worse. Climbed deeper caverns… Stood on the heads of others to climb out. But… there were no others here. Only itself, with all of its strengths and weaknesses. Once more, the creature would pull itself up. The tip of the blade dangling from his cloth, weakly dinging against the stone walls of the well. Another pull… Another swing… another…

The light was getting closer and closer. The creature could already make out the images of small insects hovering inside the glass, showering all down below with their light. They were still alive! That meant… so was the kingdom. It must have been so! The voices felt less like howls of mythical creatures, and more like those of other bugs… There was hope. The climb went faster. The air so refreshing, so full of life… Breathe more of it, even if the chest hurt, punctured by a dozen wounds… The light was almost within reach.

Suddenly, there was a metallic snap. The creature froze in place. Its only eye slowly looking up, trailing the chain. All of the links were similar to one another. All shaped like 0. Near the place where the chain connected to the metal bar across the mouth of the well, one link was different. It was shaped like a C.

_No…_

The creature froze still. One careless movement, and the whole thing would go down under its weight. But as it watched, the distance between the separate ends of the chain link was slowly growing wider.

_No, no…_

Something had to be done, and quick. Summoning all of its strength, the being would pull on the chain, launching itself upwards. To grab the chain above the weak link before it would give way. The fingers stretched out, and closed around the chain.

Two inches short.

_NO!_

The metal chain link fractured into what seemed like a million pieces. The light, so close, now was departing with great speed, becoming smaller and smaller, as the creature was swallowed and pulled back by the mysterious force that worked equally against all beings, and back to the bottom of the well. Meeting the floor and crackling the tiles with the force and the weight of the impact.

It did not hurt. Not as much as one would have thought. But it was the end. The creature laid there, collapsed, the broken chain around and over his chest, as pained, wheezing breaths escaped from underneath its white, bony mask. It felt as though the impact resonated through its entire shell, like a shockwave. Weak, twanging sounds follow suit, from above, as something sharp and heavy fell to the ground, right side of its head. The blade. It vibrated and hummed slightly, like a shallow cry.

The creature looked up. Droplets of water fell down on its face, seeping into the many cracks the mask now carried.

"**Would it be more merciful to let you die here, Broken Mask?"**

That voice again. The vision of the creature went blurry, still looking up at the mouth of the well so high above. It could see shadows now, blocking out the lights of the Luma flies. What were they? It mattered not. The chain was broken, and there was no more strength left for the climb. Turning on its side, the creature covered itself with the remains of the cloak, and closed its eye. Wrapping its only arm around the nail next to itself.

The other voices came closer…


	3. Chapter 3 - More than One Deserves

OOC: Hello, this is Obsu! Thank you for your support so far! Even just seeing so many people viewing and reading it fills me with joy. This one is a bit of a talking chapter, to make up for the last few being silent. We get to reconnect with some of the lovable characters from the game! Hope you enjoy 3

* * *

Chapter 3: More than One Deserves

"**Is he alive?"**

"**Hmm… Breathing, at least. Lucky son of a bug."**

"**Should I come over and provide assistance?"**

"**Honey, your lovely round tush will hardly fit through, and this fellow's a handful enough as it is. I can manage."**

"**W-what about a rope?"**

"**Now that would be handy! Bring several! Oh, and some help too! I doubt the two of us can lift him. Just stay still now, big guy. Let me… get it… under… there. By the Pale, you're heavy. Alright, everyone! Heave-ho!" **

…

…

…

The hearing was the first sense to return. The sounds were … different than before. Instead of distant echoes, voices from above, and rhythmic dripping of the water from the walls of the well, there was a homely kind of quiet. The crackling of the firewood, the scent of smoke, the quiet splashing of water. A happy, humming tune. The creature stirred, awakening, and opening its only eye underneath the mask. Looking up, noticing a low ceiling above its head. The gaze traveled down, to find oneself on a bed. A short one, for someone its size – the legs were hanging off the far end, lifted off the ground and rested on a stool placed close by. The cloak was gone, and so was the sword, the creature's slick, chitinous form splayed open. The only things covering it being the bandages. Fresh ones. They felt looser, more comfortable, and made of plain cloth. A shadow loomed over, making the tall bug look up.

"**Ah, you're awake!" **– the voice said. The creature heard it before, in that brief moment between falling in and out cold. It sounded feminine. The bug standing above him was tall, slender, and had a long, slightly crooked nose. A mosquito? With bugs of Hallownest, it was hard to tell. In her hands, she held another bandage, one meant to replace the one covering the eye. When the hands reached for it, the taller bug shuddered.

"**Easy there, big fellow. I'm not going to hurt you. Been worried you would not wake up at all! You slept for three days straight."**

_Three days… _\- echoed inside the bug's head. Its body became less tense, and it allowed the feminine bug to do what she needed to do. Her voice sounded … kind. Caring even. It was enough to make the creature trust. Deft hands undid the silken bandages covering the eye, placing it in a small bucket full of water. Instead, cloth wrapping around it, one layer after one.

"**I do not blame you. Nine stabs to the chest, most bugs would not survive one, let alone nine. And that's before that nosedive you took!" **– the lady bug hummed, as she tied the knot to keep the bandage in place, kind of like a bowtie. A small smile appearing on her face.

"**Oh! My name is Iselda. You are a quiet one, aren't you? What is your name?"**

Awkward silence. The creature looked at her, then a bit away, tugging its head into its shoulders. It felt as though it owed an answer of some kind, to someone who saved its live. And yet … what could it say? How? It's been so long… too long to remember if there even was a name to give. Still, the nice mosquito didn't take the being's silence for rudeness, instead nodding in understanding.

"**That knock on the head hit you harder than I thought. It's alright. Stay down. You need more rest." **– she said, placing a palm over its forehead, before standing up and walking to the front of the hut, which appeared to be some kind of a shop. With shelves full of scrolls and quills and other utensils. The back of the hut was made to be a living area, with a fire place, cooking stoves, a two-story bunk, and plenty of stuff hanging off the walls. It was so… rustic. And half the things here the creature had never seen before. A muffled thwacking sound coming from somewhere outside, followed by grunts and huffs. A sound of metal hitting wood. A brief exchange was heard from the front of the shop:

"**Hey Corny! Come inside! Our guest has woken up."**

The thwacking stopped, instead replaced by huffs and puffs, and clumsy footsteps. Soon, the one who named herself Iselda stepped back into the living room, followed by another creature. It was short and stout, with a long, pointy nose just like hers, and a pair of goofy round glasses to cover the eyes. The bug seemed to fidget a lot, requiring twice as many steps to get to the side of the bed. The tall bug turned its white, body head to look at the new guest.

"**Oh, oh, hello! Glad to see you back with us! I'm Cornifer. Me and my wife Iselda found you at the bottom of that well, when we heard that terrible crash. What happened to ye?"**

"**He does not speak." **– Iselda interjected, before another awkward moment of silence could settle in. Cornifer looked puzzled for a moment, his eyes focusing on the end of his own nose, and pushing the glasses back on with a finger.

"**That's quite alright. We had a customer like that before. Strange fellow, tiny one, remember him?"**

"**Oh yes! The cute little one. Only … you are the tallest bug I've ever seen!"**

The tall bug looked at them from its bed, not sure what to say. These two seemed so … excited. And happy. The creature never seen something like that before. But just watching them was intriguing. Heartwarming even, in a way. The way these two fidgeted and doted over its crippled form. It tried to get up on its shoulder, head turning, as if looking around for something. Only to let out a pained sigh and fall right back, as the wave of dull aching went down from the shoulders, and all over the back. The happy couple startled a little, Cornifer placing a hand on the creature's bandaged shoulder.

"**Please, friend, try not to move. You were quite crippled when we found you. Best let it rest and heal, for now."**

"**You're looking for your blade, aren't you?" **– Iselda asked, astutely. The creature looked back at her, and nodded, slowly.

"**Don't worry, we did not leave it behind. I know what a nail means to a knight. It's in the corner, over there." **

Her words made the creature turn its head, and notice the long, chippered nail resting in the corner, next to the sweeping broom. A quiet sigh of relief escaped, and it relented under Cornifer's hand, laying back down, as ordered. The round, stout bug looked back at his wife.

"**A knight?"**

"**I think so, dear. I tried to clean it, tis made of pale ore, and has this forsaken kingdom's mark upon its hilt."**

"**Of course, of course! My apologies, ser Knight, forgive us for our bickering. I'd love to hear more about your story. You can stay with us, until you feel better."**

"**Someone to keep me company when you're away. It does get lonely running the shop." **– Iselda chuckled, at the end of that exchange.

"**Hey! I do invite you to join me in my travels every chance I get!" **– the stout bug protested most profusely.

"**Oh, you're only saying that because you need someone who knows her way round a nail to guard your round little form while you're drawing your maps of dangerous places. I swear, you love them more than me!" **– the female bug teased, faking a hurt expression. It made Cornifer sweat a little and shake all four of his arms in denial.

"**Such heinous insinuations!" **– Cornifer protested. **"You know it isn't true! And not all of the places underground is dangerous! Especially since that yellow plague vanished!"**

"**Do not get your mandibles in a twist, Corny. You know I'm teasing. But I may just take you up on your offer next time."**

With that, the taller mosquito pushed her husband out of the living area, with the creature watching the two go, before lying back down, turning its head to face its blade in corner. Looking at it almost longingly. _A knightly blade… ser Knight… Broken mask… _

These words floated in its mind for quite some time, before it fell asleep. The exchange took more from the knight than it expected. What was its real name?

It did not remember.


	4. Chapter 4 - Dirtmouth

Chapter 4 – Dirtmouth

_Day 1._

_My first entry. Iselda gave me this paper and quill, so I could express myself. I am sorry for wasting it this way, but it must be done. These notes will remind me, should I forget. I was found a week ago at the bottom of the well. Cornifer, Iselda, and others rescued me. I owe my life to them. I do not know what happened to me. Bits and pieces of it come back at night. I forget them the moment I open my eyes. All I see is bright light. People around here call me Ser Knight, but my real name, I… cannot recall. Everyone else around this place has a name, given by their parents. I must have had one, too…_

The tall Knight hunched over a small table, with a Lumafly lamp in front of himself. Writing. It was early morning, but it was hard to tell the difference between day and night in Hallownest – it was equally dark and bleak, making the kingdom seem timeless. Cornifer was already out, gone on his charting adventures, and there was a pot jumping and huffing in the fire, as Iselda was cooking breakfast. Such a nice, pleasant scent. The masked bug could not eat food, sustained from within by the unseen energy within. It did not have a mouth to speak, or to eat. But… the spicy scents made it wish it could. The writing went on slowly, as it was very difficult to … think. And yet, the mind went places it never did before, exploring with a thirst of a bug stranded in the desert. Half the time, the Knight got simply fascinated with the fancy curves of its own writing. The creature's thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of clacking steps against the wooden boards, making it turn to face Iselda, standing in the doorway.

"**Awake already?" **– she smiled. **"Come over here, I got something for you."**

Curious, the silent bug stood up, and walked over to the front of the shop, moving away the lantern above its head, to not hit it with the sharp ends of its mask like the last dozen times or so. It looked at the smaller female bug, who held something in its hands up in front of herself. Upon greater inspection, it was… a pale-gray cloak!

"**I figured you would need something to replace that rug of yours you used to wear when we found you. So, I made you a brand new cloak! I managed to save the metal clip from the old one though. Wondrous what a little bit of polish could do to a thing. Kneel down a bit, will you?"**

The knight knelt down, when told to do so, and felt the fabric of the new cloak drape around its shoulders. It reached down past the waist, and covered that stump of the arm nicely, so much so one would never guess it was gone in the first place! The tall bug looked at itself, amazed and surprised. Iselda smiled, reaching forward to click the button that would hold the cloak in place.

"**There… I wish I could have made it longer, but that would have required twice as much cloth compared to what we had lying around… Do you like it?"**

The knight remained on one knee, even after the cloak was put into place, looking up at Iselda. Even in the darkness of his mask, one could guess the outline of the only remaining eye gleaming and glistening. He nodded solemnly, and reached out for the lady's hand, taking it, and tapping its fingers against where a mouth should have been, on its 'face'. Iselda's looked flustered, for a brief moment, as she slowly put the hand back.

"**Such a gentlebug. You really were a knight, weren't you? Go along now, I need to get the shop opened up. Corny insists I open doors every day at the precise hour. Though I hardly see crowds of bustling customers lining outside the door to buy his maps. Trade certainly went up though, ever since that pesky yellow plague went away…"**

Nodding, the Knight took its blade, fixing it on the makeshift scabbard on its back, and went out, leaving through the small door that made it bow to walk through. Making it into the only street ran through the middle of Dirtmouth. Such a lonely place, it used to be, though much more crowded now. Some of the old huts that were empty for decades were being occupied and repaired, with bugs returning from the mines, the fungal wastes, and many travelers from other places settling in. The Knight watched the smaller ones, as they passed by, and they watched it back, noting the creature's height and imposing features. One or two even waved, though the bug did not know how to reply to that greeting. Instead, it made way to a familiar bug on the other side of the square, right next to the metal bench that became something of a local attraction and a favorite resting place. The Elderbug.

"**Ahh, it is you, ser Knight. You grace us with your presence." – **the old creature responded to its approach in reverence. The knight closed its eye and lowered its neck, akin to a small bow.

"**Are you looking for something to do around the village again? There are still many homes that need mending, and a many a leaking roof that could use a layer of fresh shells. There's also been a few feral bugs creeping around the entrance from the King's path, if you feel like stretching your legs. My… I've never thought of myself the organizational type, but here I am, talking about what needs to be done. Beats giving advice to ungrateful strangers, that's for certain."**

That is what the Knight had been doing for the past several days. Iselda quickly discovered that keeping the big fellow inside her small shop meant having it knock over things every it moved. And besides, the creature did not want to stay in, but wanted to be useful instead. Though the bandages were still there, covering the cracks in the shell, it healed very quickly. But, with that one big arm, the Knight found it was stronger than most people were with two.

"**I hope you do not think of this as prying, but… have you managed to remember anything about your past, ser?"**

The sudden question brought the creature out of its thoughts. Looking back at the Elderbug, it shook its head, shoulders drooping lightly.

"**Oh, I am so very sorry… I hope you make it, some time. Memories are what makes a bug. So many return from those caverns nowadays, without remembering much of what happened. Ah! Almost forgot! Sly, the merchant, wanted to see you. No doubt he'll try to sell you something. So, if you have any Geo, better remain watchful. Still, I would pay him a visit, were I you."**

The Knight nodded, closing its arm under the newfound cloak, which gave its ragged and tattered body a semblance of dignity. The creature would walk over to that small shop at the edge of the village. Knocking and opening the door, before peering inside. It would see the shop, filled with all kinds of items, with threatening masks hanging off the walls, and a single lamp above the circular ceiling to shine upon it. Before the counter, the Knight would see a petite bug, with eyes big, fidgeting over the assortment of goods. Sly rose his eyes only when the bell above the door rang.

"**Ah, so you have arrived. I am glad that Elderbug delivered my message. So, you would be Ser Knight everyone's been talking about in this village. Hmpf! Quite tall you are, but size does not mean anything, hmm? You carry a Nail, and have the posture of a warrior about yourself. That is all I need to know."**

With that, Sly hopped onto the counter, and reached underneath it, briefly. Then, he pulled out a huge, triangular nail, almost trice its size. Pointing its tip towards the surprised visitor at the door.

"**You, me, outside."**


	5. Chapter 5 - The Soul of a Warrior

OOC: Thank you for following my story. I hope you enjoyed the journey so far. In this chapter, I did my best to incorporate elements from the game, particularly the moves of Nailsage Sly and the Perfect Vessel. I hope you will find the read ahead entertaining and fun!

Chapter 5 – The Soul of a Warrior

_What did I do wrong?_

The knight backed away, as the merchant Sly drove him back at the tip of his oversized nail. One part of him was wondering as to how such a small bug could lift something this big, so effortlessly. The other half was just confused. The creature looked at the shopkeeper with its one eye. Desperately trying to remember. The mind was forming images. Fight? Humiliation? Cruelty? Injustice? Was the small bug wronged by it somehow? _I … cannot remember. I couldn't have… could I?_

Sly did not seem to be having any of these thoughts, as he pointed the blade at the tall bug, making it step away and create some distance. About three times the length of that triangular sword on the small merchant's shoulder. The lights from the Luma flies were reflecting on its pristine, polished surface. One of them, attracted to the gleaming, flied closer, only to be sliced in twain from the contact with the nail, and falling on the ground, twitching.

"**Draw your sword, Knight! I, Nailsage Sly, am challenging you to a duel!"**

_But why?_

The knight looked to the left, then to the right. A small crowd of confused bugs was forming to the side, still keeping distance, partly scared, partly excited by what was going to happen. This almost looked like a show to them. But the tall bug could guess an intent of some kind in the small bug's eyes. He was serious about all of this. And so, slowly, it reached behind its back, pulling out the sword out, holding it in the only hand. It left the scabbard with a raspy sound, as if it were an old bug coughing. Sly's frown became indignant, as he looked at it, eyes trailing the weapon all the way from the hilt and down to the tip.

"**Tch. And you call yourself a knight? Might as well take a metal bar and call it a nail. You might have fooled others, but I will expose you for who you are. On your guard!"**

'Tchhhink!' –the shiny, polished sword met the chipped one, leaving another bite on it. The small creature launched himself and his monstrous blade forward, to attack. In a blink of an eye, he dashed towards the knight, swinging the weapon at the knee, before turning around to attempt a strike at the other leg. Once more, the knight parried, and felt the vibration painfully resonate into its arm.

_So strong… It can bring me down. I should not try andmatch it…_

No room for more thinking. The third blow came in hard, cutting through the air, kicking up dust across the ground in its wake. The knight jumped high into the air, briefly a shadow above ground, before descending, with the tip of the blade pointed downward. _If you want a battle… so shall it be. _

PFTANK!

The flat of the triangular nail met the tip of the old nail as if it were a shield, its polished surface letting it slide harmlessly to the side. **"Impressive! But do not think I am yet through with you!" **

Backing away and putting the tip of the sword between himself and the tall knight, Sly suddenly propelled himself in the air and spun like a spinning top, so quick the bug's weapon turned into a big, sharp circle around him. The creature's eyes widened. What it saw was different. Instead of an attack, it was a buzz-saw. The buzzing sounds of thousands of whirring blades rang in the knight's ears as he jumped back, barely in time to not get caught by the sword. Its sharp edge easily slicing through the new cloak Iselda made earlier.

"**Frightened, eh? Well you should be! For I… woah!" **

PFTANK! PFTANK! PFTANK!

The knight counterattacked, angrily, swinging its own old nail in a left-right-left pattern, forcing Sly on the defense. Once more, the big wide blade acted as a shield, as the Nailsage parried the attacks, before dashing backwards, making distance between himself and the opponent. The tall bug planted its foot into the ground, to not try and chase after, lest be caught off-guard. Its shoulder ached at the joint, reminding the creature of that time it almost fell when climbing the chain up the well. The knight's chest rose and fell, a wheezing breathing coming from under its mask.

It dared to blink, with its one eye, and the moment that happened…

DINNNNNN!

The Nailsage was back, his blade barely parried. The force behind the strike was so great it pushed the old, chipped nail away, the edge dragging across the knight's chest. Cutting the bandages covering it, and leaving a thin slash mark over the hard, chitinous shell. Sly smirked, but then his eyes widened, as he saw underneath the bandages. One, two, three… nine holes. Nine stab wounds. They were clothed, but still visible across the chitinous chestplate. Flabbergasted, the Nailsage took a few steps back, which gave the Knight a chance to counterattack. Taking a few steps back, the creature lunged, with its blade in front as if it were a spear.

The attack taking Sly out of his brief stupor. Holding the handle with both hands, he made a counterthrust towards the tip, and then turned the attacker's blade and his own to the side. All the force behind the strike going to the right and down, into the ground. The Knight did not relent, planting one foot forward to stop the lunge and letting it absorb all of its force, pulling its nail back and releasing another flurry of blows. Weapons clashed, sparks flying into the air, as each strike was both an attack and defense. The smaller combatant jumping about like a deadly yo-yo, with the taller knight trying to cope with it by using its longer limbs for the reach. But with each breath, each passing moment, the knight felt a burn inside its chest, an ache in the stump of its missing arm, and a swelling ache at the right side of its skull.

_I won't last… I must do this… quickly._

For a brief moment, the only eye behind the mask stopped looking lost and confused. In it appeared… resolve. The Nailsage noticed that, the moment another spinning blow was coming from above, threatening to cleave the Knight in twain! The nail came down, effortlessly slashing through the two-pronged bony mask, the cloak, and the black chitinous body… Before suddenly, vanishing.

_AN AFTERIMAGE?! _

A brief moment of terror, as the tall Knight appeared behind. A sharp, accurate thrust, aiming right into that space between the Nailsage's head and body. One blow, to sever all the nerves controlling the body.

CHHHINK!

The tip, once more, met the flat of the big, triangular blade, which Sly put on its path without even turning around. The attack had failed, the tip slid against the metal, harmlessly, leaving not but a single thin crape on its polished surface.

"**I have seen enough." **– the Nailsage announced, jumping away from the Knight, landing on top of the bench, to seem higher, and putting a sword on its shoulder. The creature looked at him, frozen still, not understanding what was going on. A moment ago, they were clashing blades, with an intent to kill.

"**You didn't think I'd be fighting you for no good reason, eh? Na, I wanted to see what you were capable of, get a measure of you."**

Unwilling to drop guard, the Knight remained with its weapon pointed forward, though its head tilted a little to the side, not sure what to think of … this. Sly laughed a bit, at that reaction.

"**You are who you say you are. Compliments to whoever trained you in the nail arts – they managed to drill those lessons into your very being. Even though you lost your memories, your body still remembers how to fight. And you fought with one arm better than most fight with two." **– the Nailsage said. He seemed… honest. It made the knight lower down his weapon. The habits and customs of the bugs in this city were … strange indeed. The Nailsage hopped off the iron bench, and approached, looking up at the knight, and let out a sigh, shaking his head.

"**And yet… I felt no drive in you. No purpose, besides the primitive desire for self-preservation. Whatever took memory claimed your reason to fight with it. Look at your nail."**

Both of them turned their heads to look at it. It was… pitiful. Slightly bent now, and with deep chinks across the blade. It hummed a little when moved through the air, almost as if weeping. Sly frowned.

"**A nail is a warrior's soul. Yours is broken. Fix your blade, before you fix yourself. Venture to Greenpath. If you look hard enough, you will find a student of mine. Recently, I hear, he found a friend, skilled with the anvil and hammer. Perhaps that friend can help you."**

The small bug walked past the Knight, towards the little shop. Before turning around, and giving a quick look over his shoulder.

"**Come back with both intact. Maybe then we will have a real battle. There's no point in fighting … a cripple." **

With that, the Nailsage left, leaving the Knight alone. The crowd dissipated, hushed whispers and gossiping the fight, and whatever the words said there meant. The tall bug approached the iron bench and sat on it, to recuperate, and catch a breath. It was not completely fit for fighting, not yet. The injuries of the past still took toll. Briefly, the bug passed its hand over the notched and chipped nail of his. Carefully feeling each of the little nicks it accumulated over time.

_I'm so sorry… I've been neglectful, haven't I?_

It almost spoke, reaching down and finding a nice, hard little stone with a flat side. Dragging it along the blade, at an angle, to soften up some of the harder nicks and bumps. A raspy sound followed in its wake.

_Don't worry, we'll find the friend that strange little bug was talking about… He will fix you… _

_But can he fix me too?_


	6. Chapter 6 - Mea Culpa

OOC: Thank you all for the positive feedback on my last chapter 3 It really keeps me going. I hope you will enjoy this chapter as well!

* * *

Chapter 6 – Mea Culpa

Thousands of little bodies falling from above.

They were not the first ones. The ground below was littered with bony remains of their predecessors. Many would not make it all the way down, hitting slabs of rock or getting impaled on spikes protruding through the walls. Some would strike the ground and get pierced by the horns of the many skulls. Others would fall on top of their dead brethren, and live, at least for the moment. It was a dark place, where none would see their suffering. With sharp, white protrusions from every possible surface. A black fog fuming at the bottom. In that darkness, the bones rattled, disturbed by the frantic struggling or caught in the wind which blew through the chasms and piles of discarded bodies.

There was only one way out of here – to the top, where the pale light called to those below like beacon of hope… or a lure. But only one was meant to reach it. A twisted contest to become the chosen one. And so, the group of shadows would begin its climb.

Some bugs did not go, and were left behind. They were trying to help the injured ones get up. Weak, faulty ones. Their compassion doomed both themselves and those they tried to carry on their shoulders. The path ahead had no mercy for them. A few managed to step over themselves and walk upon the bones of their fallen brethren, but were too timid to face the traps. They paused in front of each spiked wall, each obstacle, before making a jump. Cowardly ones. Hesitation meant death. And so they died, either pushed by others who would dare the jump, or losing heart and falling, at the very last moment. They did not scream, but writhed in pain, suffering in silence.

The rest climbed on. Each floor, each trap, each step was claiming lives. One by one, the bugs fell, but continued their grim march to the top. The abyss would weed out the weak, the infirm, the imperfect. All for the sake of creating the One. Among these survivors, some stood out. When others died on the spikes, they would walk upon them, to get further. They would grab the sharp stones with their very hands, bleeding, in order to not fall down. Pain was ephemeral. Pain could be shut off. Failure was real. And there was only one chance.

In the end, only two remained. Equals, both in ability, and will to live. The platforms trembled and collapsed under their feet as they rushed up, towards the light, sentencing others behind them to their doom. Stones and bodies fell down, consumed by darkness, as the pale light was getting closer. So bright, so enticing. It promised life, freedom, … purpose. But only for one of them.

Jump, jump, another jump. Over the spikes. Cut a leg, but it did not matter. Pain was nothing, time was of the essence. Keep up, gain ground, catch up to the one in front. But somehow, that one always remained ahead. Doing the same things, like a mirror. Even the injuries were the same. Somehow, somewhere, it gained a few seconds, and refused to surrender them! Did it land closer, or was it a miscalculation on the Second's part? Mattered not. The First one was going to win, and reach the light and freedom. All others were sentenced to perish in this dark closet of bones.

_There is no second place… I cannot… I WILL NOT!_

At that very moment, a spark of thought went through the Second's head. A hand shot forward, and grabbed the First's cape, just as it was about to make a jump. Slowing down the leap, reducing momentum. A piece of cloth remained in the Second's hand. It was enough. The First did not make it to the other platform. Their hand scraped against the stone, before it too fell down, into the gaping maw of the void.

The Second now became the First. It stared down, watching its brother consumed by darkness below, holding the piece of cloth in hand, before dropping it. No time to waste! The light was so near! It climbed. Slowly, painfully, arduously. To the top. Pulling itself up and over, the new First gazed upon the pale being. Tall and imposing, it looked. With an air of power and regality about itself. And so… bright. It was hard to keep one's eyes on the being for too long. The tiny bug kneeled before its Majesty.

"**Rise, young one." **– the King commanded, and the Knight obeyed. **"After all these fruitless attempts… pointless sacrifices… finally. You are the One, my child." **

The voice sounded both satisfied… and so incredibly tired. Like thousands of sleepless years were held upon the white one's shoulders. The Knight nodded, and followed, through the door, when suddenly hearing the clawing and scraping from behind. Briefly turning, it recognized the horn shape. The former First, was making it here, too… Somehow. But it was too late. The doors were shut, fates of those inside sealed forever.

_There is no second place…_

The tall knight woke up, opening its only eye, and sitting up briskly on the small bed. Once more, it was back at Iselda's comfy hut, among the countless mapping supplies, brushes, quills, and boxes stacked on one another. It was a dream. And yet it felt so… With a silent groan, the bug would stand up and shamble towards the small sink, with a mirror on the wall up in front. Pouring some water into its only hand, and dousing the mask with water. Looking up at itself in the mirror.

The reflection looked back. Such a pitiful image. Mask cracked in several places; one eye covered in bandages still. It was unlikely to recover. That face… so very familiar. Staring at it, the Knight ran its hand across one of the horns, feeling the protrusions. They were so much like of that little bug from the dream… The one that won. The mirror image blurred, becoming indiscernible. Some of the water got into the mask. The creature brushed it off. When it did, the reflection became clear again.

The eyepatch was gone.

The Knight's only eye widened, as it reached up to feel it. No, it was still there. But the mirror image remained motionless. Silent, glaring, judging, with a gaze hidden in the darkness of the eyeholes of its passionless mask. The bug felt burning in its chest again, and in its mind. It could not withstand the baleful stare. Closing its only eye and shuddering, the Knight reached up and turned the mirror to face the wall instead. Shaking its head, the creature pooled some water from the bottom of the sink.

_It was nothing… _\- the creature thought, washing its face again. But looking into the water still there, one could still see the reflection of oneself. It didn't change. The same baleful stare drilled into the Knight's skull. The creature slapped at the water, before backing away, knocking off a few boxes in the process. Looking away, trying to find a place for its only eye. The baleful Knight stared at it from everywhere. From the windows, and from the reflections in the polished glass. Trapping the creature, and looking at it, silently judging. The Knight looked left, right, feeling terror build up in its throat, as its only eye frantically looked for a means of escaping. The retreat continued until its back met a wall, and the tall bug slid down it, onto the floor.

_My sword…_

It was right there, placed against the opposite wall, shining and shimmering in the dim light of a lamppost outside. Its surface still nicked; blade dull. But the Knight took some care of it since. But it would offer no comfort, no solace. For on its polished and oiled surface, stood a reflection, of that same, judging knight. Suddenly, the creature felt itself shrinking, as the sword grew, the reflection in it growing larger and larger. Towering, intimidating, enough to crush one underneath. The crippled Knight's eye spasmed and twitched, as it could see the imposing figure fall upon itself, as if a column collapsing and threatening to bury all under the rubble.

_Wait! Wait!_

Its only arm stretched forward, in an attempt to shield oneself from impact, as the sounds of stone and rubble collapsing filled its ears.

But nothing happened after.

No blunt pain, no crushing damage, no choking dust, no nothing. For a few long minutes, the Knight just sat there, in the corner, hand around its only eye, too frightened to look up and see. When it eventually did, everything was… normal. The reflections were gone, the room did not feel as small as before. The baleful gazes were gone as well. The bug stood up, and sheepishly approached the mirror, turning it back to see oneself. The image was that of itself, with all of its injuries and imperfections. The crippled Knight was … alone. On shaky legs, the bug would walk to the front of the house. How come nobody heard or seen anything? The place was… empty. Strange, Iselda usually opened up at this hour. But the place in front of the counter was empty. On it, there was a pinned note. Curious, the creature took the piece of paper, and read it to itself:

"Finally decided to take up Cornifer on that mapping field trip of his. Please, watch the shop for us while we are gone. It is not difficult – the list of prices is under the counter. Help yourself to anything you might need. Will be back in a few days!

Yours, Iselda and Corny!"


	7. Chapter 7 - How Long is Forever?

Chapter 7 – How Long is Forever?

'_You cheated!'_

'_You succeeded…'_

'_You lied!'_

'_You survived…' _

'_You failed!'_

'_You exceeded expectations…'_

'_You disobeyed orders!'_

'_You thought for yourself…'_

'_YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO THINK!'_

The voices inside of the Knight's head kept arguing, and both sounded just like it own. The blissful emptiness of the mind was harder and harder to achieve. They were getting louder, getting distracting, ringing inside of its ears. The bug closed its eye and remained still, for a few seconds, to make them go away, before opening it and looking at the table in front of itself. A piece of paper and a quill, with black marks on the surface forming something akin to a drawing. Two figures, one a tall, thin one, made if lines, while the other looked stout and made of ovals and circles. Sharp noses, mandibles, legs… Taking a distinct appearance of two certain bugs. There were a few ruined papers by the Knight's side, filled with scribbles. This one was turning out alright, though. Art relaxed, helped spend time, and served as a cure for one's perpetual loneliness. It also helped the tall bug from looking at the clock, or fighting the voices inside. The only eye looked to the side, before the hand moved again. Instead of using the tiny quill, the Knight dipped the tip of its finger into the ink bottle, and drew the third image on the picture. A very tall image, with long limbs, and a horned head. And a small smile on its face, even if it was not supposed to have one.

It's been three days.

Running the shop was not that hard. Customers were few and far between. Most times, they were expecting the lovely, if somewhat bored, Iselda, instead of the Knight sitting behind the counter, curling and bending over just to fit in. The Geo paid for the wares were kept in a jar, for the owners to find once they would come back. But it was getting late. Dirtmouth's only street was getting empty, with the bugs hiding inside their homes. It was time to close shop. The Knight would take the simple key, and pick up its nail by the scabbard, before walking outside, closing the door behind. The Lumafly lamps shined upon the small town, showering it with its dim, pale light. When other bugs slept, it looked as distant and desolated as it was long before. The tall bug would occupy the iron bench, and turn its head in a single direction, towards the familiar well. In here, it would spend hours, every night. Still as a statue. From time to time, the creature would have company.

"**There you are, ser Knight. Back on your watch, are you?"**

The Elderbug. Often, it would trudge along, and stay close, sometimes saying very little, if anything at all. The Knight looked at him, briefly, and made a small nod, before turning back, as if afraid to have missed something. But the well remained still, as it always was. The new rope ladder in place of the old, broken chain moving ever so slightly in the wind. Dust breezing across the road leading to it.

"**Oh, don't mind me. I am just an old bug. Sleep does very little for me these days. But you? You remind me of another bug that traveled these parts. Small one, restless, and, like you, not much for erm… conversation. But also very, very kind."**

The older bug's voice trembled, at those last words. It made the Knight look at them, briefly. Even seated, the creature was still taller than the Elderbug, who looked into the distance, somewhat wistfully. '_Sounds like a good bug…' _– it thought, the only eye shifting down briefly. A familiar ache appearing in its chest.

"**Always paid attention and showed gratitude for my advice, as superficial as it was… Kept me company back when ol' Dirtmouth was at its loneliest. It has been a while since I've seen them, too… They gave me this, before leaving for the last time…"**

With that, the old bug removed the draping of its cloak, and another light shined upon them. The Knight's eye widened, as it looked upon a delicate, pale flower. It looked so … fragile. As if any careless movement would harm it. Its petals moved slightly in the breeze blowing through the town, making the Elderbug rise the side if its cloak again, to protect it. The Knight rose its hand, briefly, as if wanting to touch it, but realizing how clumsy its fingers must have been, instead it cupped the hand around the flower from the side, to help protect it that way. For a few moments, the two would just stare at it, in wonder.

"**Town's much more crowded now than it used to be. People started coming back to the village about the same time my little friend left. But… I still hope to see them, some day. This flower is a memory."**

_A memory… Something to remember them by…_

The Knight's shoulders drooped a little. It had nothing to leave, or to give. Without a token, would people remember? Or would it be erased from their memories and minds, just like its own was? A few more moments were passed in silence. Thoughts started appearing inside that white, horned head, as the creature turned away from the flower, and looked towards the well.

_Maybe if I do good, like the little bug, they will remember me, too… _

"**Are you waiting for Iselda and Cornifer?" ** \- the Elderbug suddenly broke the silence. When mentioning them, the Knight's shoulders drooped a bit lower. It made a small nod. **"The stout cartographer has a habit of going into those dreadful old ruins below. Sometimes, he would go missing for weeks! Making his wife all worried. But she is strong, that one. When the two first came to Dirtmouth, she carried a sharp nail with her. Much more… warrior-like. They will be back, eventually. With the yellow sickness gone, there's very little of danger left down below."**

The Knight nodded, but did not retract its hopeful gaze from the well. Its back straightening up every time it thought the ladder shifted and moved. But there was nothing. The creature would stay up, past midnight, past when the elder bug would stand up and trudge back towards one of the huts. Leaving one to stare into the abyss alone. At times, it would seem that the darkness above the well seemed thicker, somehow. One was getting sleepy, no doubt. Then, it would seem that it was taking shape and form. It was quite late, after all. The Knight blinked a few times, trying to keep oneself awake. The dark silhouette above the well did not vanish, hanging over it like a shadow. It hovered closer and closer, and one by one, the light of the Lumaflies was becoming dimmer.

'_Am I dreaming…' _– the Knight wondered, as its body felt sluggish, almost paralyzed. Its hand moving towards the blade strapped on its hilt. Pulling it out, a few inches. The shadow drew closer, and … stopped. Confused, the creature tried to shake off the sleepiness, and stand up from the bench. The shadow stood still, much smaller than the Knight, and yet the taller bug knew it was being watched. Suddenly, their gazes met, as two bright white eyes opened on the being's face.

**SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!**


	8. Chapter 8 - The Darkest Night

OOC: Hello my friends ^_^ Sorry for the long wait. Hope you find this chapter fun! For better immersion, use this in youtube: watch?v=fyPdjvRQbY8. Alternatively, search Darkest Dungeon: Warrens Ambush. Happy reading!

* * *

Chapter 8 – The Darkest Night

The terrifying screech was their only warning.

The well burst into a fountain of pitch-black tar, as dozens if not hundreds of shadowy creatures emerged from it, swarming towards Dirtmouth. One by one, the lights inside the huts and houses were turned on, to see what was going on. Big mistake. The dim light of the Lumaflies seemed to attract them. The Knight could see the swarm burst into some of the far houses, breaking through windows and doors.

_Marissa, Clarion, Satlu… - _the names appeared in its memory. During its stay, the creature managed to learn a few. And where they lived. They came to the village last week, bought some supplies Their home was the farthest from the shop.

Only when the first screams were snuffed out would the bug get a hold of itself. Its only hand gripping the sword hilt, as it rushed forward.

_Must get to the huts… Must fight them off…_

It was not rational thinking. There were too many of them, against just one Knight. It was a … compulsion. With the focus on the houses afar, it practically ignored the first shadow that appeared in front. The dark being would have none of it, opening up its chest cavity and releasing a writhing swarm of dark tentacles against the knight. Swashing and swatting, ripping through that cloak, and gripping against the waist and the leg.

"…"

A sharp, stinging pain went through the Knight, and almost in a reflex, it swung its sword, cutting off the grappling tendrils. It … hurt. Briefly looking upon its form, the Knight could notice the dark swellings upon its shell, almost like burns, just from the touch. The nail was raised again, disemboweling the shadow and making it disappear. One down… but… there were so many more. The swarm was now moving towards the Knight. Their approach as quiet as it was terrifying. After the shriek the first one let out, all one could hear is movement. Rocks and grass displaced by something that sounded like a swarm of tendrils getting closer and closer. Hundreds of beady white eyes stalking the village with their mindless gazes. About to claim the second hut on its way. In the window, the creature could guess the outlines of the bugs inside.

_Barricade the windows!... Close the doors!... Do… something!_

The Knight wished that it could scream right now. But there was only silence. Its blade cut through another creature of darkness and shadow, cutting it in twain with a horizontal cut. It did not try to dodge, or block. It did not care at all. Perishing under the blade. What's the life of one to the swarm? One step, another, cut, cut. The door… NO! The door was opening, its inhabitants foolish enough to try peer out and see what was going on.

**SLAM!**

The tall bug rammed into the door with its shoulder, closing it shut and throwing the bug inside away from sheer force of recoil. Better this way. Hope they'd get the message. With its back against the door, the warrior turned around to face whatever was coming. At this point, it did not even recall the names of the bugs inside that it was trying to protect. All that mattered was the swarm up in front. No retreat. The thought of death had crossed the bug's mind, briefly. _Others could escape … while I fight. _

The fingers gripped tightly around the hilt, as the tip of the nail was pointed out forward. Towards the dark, writhing mess of eyes, horns, and tendrils moving forward. It was hard to identify individual beings in the swarm. As if they created a collective body. With one of the tentacles, it reached out forward, to the masked bug protecting the entrance.

**SHHHINK!**

A single blow, and the severed 'limb' flied off, landing on the ground, and dissipated into air, leaving a scorched mark. A shriek came from inside the horde. Now there were two vines lunging to grab the knight. Its motions were swift, and a single arc was required to swipe both from the air, cutting through darkness as if it were air. _Three… four… five…_

No pauses between blows. Slashes, slashes, slashes. But with each strike, two more appeared. As if growing to replace the ones lost. Until one got through. '_Nghhh…' – _the Knight felt the searing grip as one of the wines wrapped around its ankle. The sword responded, drawing a circle in the air in front of the bug and cutting off the shadowy tendril, leaving behind a white burn upon the shell. Then came another blow, this time at the shoulder. The smell of burned shell filled the Knight's nose, it was his own. Mixed with the smoldering fabric where a pauldron used to be. Behind the door, it could hear muffled screams, thumps, a child crying.

_Can't win… they're going to tear me apart… Too many…_

The Knight made a step forward, away from the door. The arcs it drew around itself with the blade now ending with strikes against the writhing mass in front. It felt like giving blows to tar – viscous, slimy, disgusting. First strike, the shadows hissed, and retaliated with three thrusts of the tendrils against the chest. Throwing the knight back against the door. Sizzling coming from the shell, black vapors lifting into the air.

Using the sword for support, the knight got up. Its only eye nearly white from pain, gazing upon the creatures up in front. Another step forward, another thrust. Heavy thud against the wooden door. The hinges creaked, some of the bolts flying out. That door would not stand a chance. As the knight laid against it, collapsed, a few of the shadowy tentacles reached for the glass window. Thin, old glass, so easy to break. Inches away…

**SHHRRK!**

They fell down. The tendrils were cut off by the long nail, the Knight was able to reach it, even while seated. Grunting and putting the sword's point against the ground, it pried itself up. Shaking its head to the writhing mass up in front. _No… I am your opponent… for now… _\- it thought, as if the shadowy creatures could read minds. During this brief stall, the bug shot a glance towards the rest of Dirtmouth. The windows were glowing, and some of the singular shadows, moving in threes, were about to seize upon some of them. Rattling against the windows and doors.

_Run… Run… do something… With the time I am buying you… Please…_

The distraction was a mistake. Four tendrils, like vines covered in barbs, reached out for the knight, and grabbed its sword-arm. Searing the wrist, and pulling towards. A lesser bug would be pulled in and consumed immediately. The knight stood ground, planting one foot in front, and the other behind, trying to resist.

Fifth tendril joined in, wrapping itself around the waist.

Sixth – around the front foot.

Seventh – back foot.

Eighth and Ninth – towards the head, and grabbing the horns of the mask. With their collecting strength, the Knight started to give ground. Its mind going blank from the burning, as the shadows pulled it closer. Inch, after inch. Closer.

_NO… Stop… There are… people behind me…_

No quarter.


	9. Chapter 9 - The Noose Tightens

OOC: Another chapter is ready! Sorry I made you wait, hope it was not too long ^_^ Thank you all for your encouragement so far, I will do my best to keep you invested in the story. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts so far. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Chapter 9 – The Noose Tightens

Stones scraping against the shell.

The scent of burned shell and cloth.

The sounds of a silent struggle as Dirtmouth's defender was being dragged off, the village left defenseless against the shadows. The Knight writhed, kicking and digging its feet into the ground, leaving long, jagged lines of turned dirt in its wake. Screams in the distance made the bug twist its neck, looking to the other side of the village, as some of the shadows were already prying bugs out of their homes. He could see their dark tendrils pull two brothers out of their humble abode. They were weaver ants, who wanted to establish a clothing shop in Dirtmouth. The tentacles pulled out one of them, and the other tried to pull his brother back, until both were overpowered.

"**AAAAAARHHHHHH! N-NOOO! STOP! I… NGLHHHH…"**

The shadows took their eyes first, stabbing right through them and into the skull, with sharp tendrils. The third vine shoved right into the mouth to silence the scream. It is as though the intention of the shadowy demons was to insert themselves into the bodies of those they murdered. Dark tears flowed out of their broken eyes, their bodies twitching and contorting in unnatural ways, before falling silent and still. Such death terrified the Knight. In a desperate attempt, it broke it arm out of the vine, and grabbed unto the leg of the iron bench. It shuddered and creaked, but held. _No… not like this… no honor in it… No… purpose…_

The creature could almost hear the buzzing sound of the saws again. They were cold, emotionless, merciless, not caring who or what would perish from its blades. These creatures… Same. They fought with mindless abandon. The grip was getting weaker. It was slipping. The pain from touching those vines wrapping around the lower part of its body was getting unbearable. The Knight closed its eyes, and prepared to let go. Let the saws claim their price.

**BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!**

The sound sounded so real. The bug could almost taste the scent of shells being sliced open upon its teeth. Its own shell. But… there was no pain. The bindings suddenly felt weaker. Bewildered, the Knight opened its eyes. The tendrils dragging it across the yard like a puppet were gone. But there was something else.

**SHHHHSHHHSHHHSHHH!**

The sounds of a single triangular blade spinning. The tendrils lashed out at him in vain. None reached even close. All cut down in the never-ending spin. It was a strangely-horrifying sight, both with how efficient the warrior dealt with the monsters… and how the monsters seemed to not care. No mouths to cry in pain, no mind to feel fear, and no will to protest. They fought and died, and they never cared. Finally, the spin stopped and the Knight recognized the warrior behind the wide, triangular blade.

The Nail Sage.

"**What are you waiting for? Grab your nail and go!" **

The harsh words to his silent look of gratitude brought the knight back to reality. The fight was still on. Screams and sounds of shattered glass as more homes were pried open, more inhabitants dragged out and … consumed. Lifeless husks collapsing on the streets. With a silent groan, it stood up, trudging towards the sword lying in the dirt, and picking it up. The fingers tightened around the hilt to the point the wood was beginning to crack. It was then, when the Knight heard a familiar voice.

"**N-no! No no, let me go, you! Back! Back I say!"**

The Elderbug's hut was pried open, the door torn out. The tendrils of the shadowy creatures outside were pulling on the big old bug, trying to force him out. He was not very strong, but big and heavy enough to pose a challenge. And clawing unto every piece of furniture there was! Unlike the poor ant tailors. The Knight's staggering walk slowly became an awkward run. Kicking up the dust as it approached the group of ghouls with its sword raised high up.

No.

The first vertical slash severed the spiky tendrils they used to pull.

Not again.

The second slash bisected the lot of them. The Knight swung clumsily, but frenetically, delivering a dozen strikes in a matter of seconds. The shadows dissipated into darkness, and yet it kept hammering at the place where they stood, for several more moments. With a sharp chink, the edge went into the dirt where they stood, and the Knight fell on top, using it for support, briefly out of breath. Looking to the side, it noticed the Elderbug, standing up from the floor, panting profusely. Its hands and legs trembled, and it could barely stand. Grabbing unto a walking stick, and trying to hobble outside. The Knight pulled its sword from the ground, and approached, offering an armless shoulder for support.

"**T-thank you… Ser Knight…" **

The flow of darkness from the accursed well never ceased to stop. The first wave was gone, leaving behind bodies of murdered bugs. The second one was coming. These creatures looked different, somehow. The Knight saw them. They were bigger… Their hands clutched unto what looked like shadowy blades. They had many arms… And many eyes. All unblinking, with a pale, ghastly white light inside. As the warrior helped Elderbug find the way to one of the huts in the center of the village, a movement was caught with a corner of its eye. The dead bodies of bugs littering the trail through the village. They started … moving. Kneeling up, standing up. Turning their heads towards those that still lived. Their eyes dripping black goo, down their cheeks, unto their chins. They tumbled, fell, stood up, and moved. For a moment, the Knight felt its breath catching still in its chest.

A step back, then another.

"**Fall back!" **

The yelp from the distance brought the tall bug out of yet another stupor. The Nail Sage was running towards it, as the second wave of creatures was forming to descend, from all sides. Those in the village still alive hobbled together inside the last three houses in the center. Cries were heard from the inside. Women, men, children… They were all scared. The Nail Sage frowned, looking over his shoulder with a bit of worry and pity, before eyeing the approaching creatures. Briefly nodding towards the husks of the ant brothers. They did not deserve this. They wanted a peaceful life.

"**What a bad way to go…"**

The Knight looked at them too. Then looked back over its shoulder. Whole body hurt so much… It took one's sheer strength of will to stand straight up. But… it was alright. Pain was something the creature was trained to endure… Made to endure. Without a scream, a tear, or a complaint. Angry at earlier display of one's own cowardice, the bug drew a line in the sand, with the tip of its nail. The Nail Sage smirked.

"**Don't worry. So long either of us can swing our nails, they shall not pass..." **

As the darkness encroached on Dirtmouth, a singular figure appeared atop the collapsed road of the King's Pass. Sharp eyes noticing the two hopeless defenders standing in the light of the only Lumafly not yet snuffed out. Swords pointed outwards as the mass of writhing eyes, limbs, and tentacles advanced. Upturning stones, withering grass, and pulling the shards of rock, wood and glass from broken windows, making them rattle against the ground, as they approached. The scraping and screeching of stone against glass was heard even from the distance.

"**They do not stand a chance…"**

It did not take a genius to calculate the odds.


	10. Chapter 10 - Sacred Hallownest

Hello again, my dears. With holidays approaching, I've had a very busy week. I appreciate your patience with me 3 Hope you will enjoy this chapter! Expect another one to be posted within a day or two. I need to catch up!

* * *

Chapter 10 – Sacred Hallownest

"**Are you afraid?"**

The Nailsage asked the Knight, as the two saw the horde approaching, slowly. It was as if the swarm of spikes, swords, eyes and tendrils was savoring the moment of the kill. The two stalwart defenders of Dirtmouth stood close to one another, hands clenched around their nails. The Knight knew not what to answer. Afraid of death? No. Pain? Somehow, the aches from the searing touches felt distant. Insignificant even. As if belonging to someone else. A cry from behind brought the tall bug back into focus. Cries and lamentations of those behind them. If the two of them were to fall, what would become of the rest? The reminder was right in front of them, as the shambling corpses of the ant brothers, and others unfortunate enough to be caught in the way of the shadow horde were nearing closer. The Knight briefly looked over his shoulder, and then slowly turned to face the Nailsage, who waited for the answer, patiently.

He nodded, two times.

A small smirk appeared at the bottom of Sly's face.

"**Yeah. I am afraid too. Nothing worse than to fail, when others need you the most."**

The Knight tucked its head into its shoulders, eyeing the silent foes. Somehow, that remark made him feel like it failed, somehow. Someone. Something very important. Alas, it could not recall. No matter. They were all going to die soon, anyway.

"**I will take the smaller ones. You keep the shadow bladesbugs busy. If we are to fall, let no one say we did not give our best!"**

The Nailsage knocked on his chest, two times, before grasping the hilt of his huge blade with both hands. Swiftly, he launched himself into the air, before coming down on the mass of shadows like a buzz-saw. Cleaving through the swarms of tendrils and tentacles out to try and grab him. Before they could, they'd have to come through a wall of blades, spinning maliciously. The Knight hesitated, but then saw the taller figures turning to face the Nailsage.

_No, you will face me._

DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

An ear-piercing sound of metal against metal, as the Knight issued its challenge, by slamming the flat of its blade against a lamp-post. The three larger shadows turned to face their nemesis. Without the smaller shadows swarming around, the tall bug could see them now. They were about his size in height, their heads sprouting many sharp horns, like thorns coming out. Their nails were thorny as well, like harpoons. Their eyes were like 8 narrow slits with a dim pale light glowing inside. All those eyes were now upon the Knight.

They charged.

Letting out a bloodcurdling screech, the shadowmonsters ran towards those who would dare to oppose. They were fast, crossing the little square in less than a blink, raising their blades to cut down the Knight. But when they struck, its image disappeared in a brief flash of darkness so much like their own. The nails hit nothing, leaving deep gashes in the ground.

"**AURARGGHHHH!"**

One of them let out another screech, as a metal nail emerged from its chest, before being pulled back. It fell unto its knee, one of the arms grasping at the wound, or where it should have been. The Knight took a few steps back, assuming a stance, holding the blade above its head, with the tip pointed at the three creatures. They looked at their foe once more, and the tall bug stared them right back – their glowing eyes against its, filled with darkness of the void. One of the creatures charged, and slammed its blade against the Knight. The force of the blow made it take a step back, and deflect most of the force off to the side.

_Strong… If only I had my other arm…_

Another strike followed. Another. The shadow warrior struck without grace, finesse, or thought, seeking to overwhelm the Knight through brute force. It defended, taking steps back, and deflecting the strikes, desperately scrambling for solutions. One of the deflections did not go too well – the angle of the blade was not sharp enough, and the blow landed through the block, onto the shoulder. Cutting and biting through the shell.

_Uhhh…_

Over its foe's shoulder, the Knight could see the other end of the battlefield. The Nailsage was mighty. Each spin he made around himself cut swaths in the hordes of smaller shadows. But they kept coming. The flow of shadows from the well seemed endless, and for each shadow slain, two emerged. The spinning was getting slower, it could tell. The shadows seeking to overwhelm the small bug with sheer numbers! The Nailsage knew it too. To stop spinning was death. He jumped, launching himself into the air, and landing on the roofs of one of the small huts.

"**Uhh…huhh… huhhh… So many… Where do you all bloody come from?!"**

A little reprieve, before the hero jumped back into the fray. There was no option to stop. The triangular blade cut into the viscous mass of shadows, splattering them, as they surrounded the Sage once more.

CRSSSKRRRT…

The gnashing sounds of metal escaped every time the Knight and one of the three shadow warriors crossed blades. The one thought mortally wounded got up on its feet, the gap in its chest closing. Now, all three of them attacked at once. No chivalry. Once more, the Knight blinked behind them, but the impaling strike was parried, as one of the shadow creatures turned around to meet it.

_They're learning…_

Slowly, the Knight and the Nailsage were pushed back. The shadows enveloped the empty huts and poured out from the windows like darkness from the eyes of those they have claimed. A few more steps, and they found themselves against the door and the walls of Sly's own shop. There was no room left to retreat. One of the shadow warriors stepped over the line the Knight drew, wiping it off from the sand. The Nailsage wiped the sweat off of his forehead. If it even were sweat. More like water condensing on the surface of its shell.

"**Hahhh… ahhh… Damn you all to the Abyss. You ready for one last charge?"**

The Knight nodded, pointing the sword forward as if it were a lance. At least one of these three bastards had to go down. Not for the sake of those behind, but… for personal ego. If they failed, they'd be doomed anyway.

But then… they stopped.

A strange rang from behind. It was long and howling, reverberating through the cold night air. It sounded like… a horn. As one, the shadow creatures turned to face whatever it was, but it was too late! A moving mass of shells, shields, nails and lances struck right in the center of the shadowy mass, scattering them. There were dozens of bugs, armed and shelled, seeking to fight their way through! One of the shadow warriors turned to face and strike the shiltron that moved and stabbed at everything like a giant Goam, impervious and intimidating. It was then, when the shields parted, and something briefly escaped from inside the armored ranks.

HRSSSSK!

The crisp sound of the blade cutting through shadow. So fast one could not even perceive the blow. The dark being's head fell from its shoulders, and dissipated into nothingsness. The other two looked at their 'brother's' demise, astonished. They did not see what happened. But the Knight saw something.

A red cloak.


	11. Chapter 11 - The Princess

OOC: Hello again! I promised a quick chapter, the other time, and I failed your expectations. I am very sorry about that v_v I will not make excuses, as it is completely my own fault. I will try not to let you down in the future. Hope you enjoy this chapter, though!

* * *

Chapter 11: The Princess

"**Stand! Hold ground! Do not let them pull you in!"**

The schiltron of bug warriors made it to where the Nailmaster and the Knight were making their last stand. Their formation split up into a semi-circle, with shields facing the shadow horde and the spearmen behind them. Like a dam of shells and weapons, they stood against the tide of shadows, stabbing and cutting at it. The tendrils lashing out were cut before they could latch onto any of the soldiers, and attempts to brute-force through had failed. Sly swung his blade towards the horde, a few times, before jumping back and over the formation, landing on the ground, panting. He was greeted by the commander of the formation – a grizzled-looking ant with a lance held tightly by its 4 arms, and a mask he wore on the top of his head like a tricorn hat. An eyepatch covering one of the eyes, and more cuts and nicks on his shell than one could bother to count. He offered, the Nailsage a hand to stand up.

"**You and your lads came in the nick of time. Thank you. Who are thee?"**

"**We are the royal guard, in service of the Princess." **– the officer replied, bumping a fist against his chest in a military-kind of salute.

"**The princess?" **– the smaller bug reiterated, while falling on one knee to catch a breath. The ant looked over the ranks, and pointed somewhere in the general direction. As the sage looked, his eyes widened. All these disciplined bugs were not the main force, or even a vanguard. They were … a distraction. For the shadows to follow and break their teeth against. The main power behind the attack was behind.

The crimson cloak. It was hard to see. It darted from one shadow to another, piercing them with a needle, and leaving before they could even realize they were dead. The Knight, crossing blades with one of the bigger shadows, was distracted just trying to follow what was going on, and the shadow took advantage of it, pushing with its shoulder and throwing the tall bug off-balance. It slid back, falling to the knee. The shadow used the momentum to lift its own thorny weapon to the skies, and bring it crushing down upon the Knight.

CHHINK!

Instead of cleaving through the warrior, the sword cleaved through earth and rock. The shadow realized it fell for the same trick as before, but it was too late. A single slash was all it took. The head was separated from the body, and the carcass soon broke apart, into dark shards and puddles littering the battleground. The Knight's chest heaved up and down, the cut shoulder bleeding something dark over the remains of the cloak. But it had time to observe. The third shadow was … busy.

PFTANK! PFTANK! PFTANK!

Finally, the knight could make out the outline of the warrior. It was a very … small-looking bug. Most of her body shrouded by the crimson cloak. She wore a mask, not unlike his own, and in her hands, a very unique needle. Its speed was almost blinding, and she was driving the shadow back with a flurry of blows, making it back away, and parry with the blade and the hilt, just trying to endure past it.

SHHHINK! HRSSSK!

It was no use. One carefully aimed blow severed the fingers, making the creature roar, and spawn new ones. But it gave the crimson warrior a much-needed window. She leaped over the shadowy creature, summersaulting in the air and making it look up, while its weapon was still down.

"**SHAW!"**

The needle surged forward, thrown by a skillful hand. It accurately pierced through the shadow's neck, sticking out on the other side. On a string connected to the weapon, the bug pulled herself close to her target, kicking it in the chest with all of her weight. It was enough to topple the wretched one. As it fell, she pulled her weapon back and sliced the head off of its shoulders, before pushing away and flipping a few times in the air, and landing on her feet. This was not an attack. More… an execution. The crimson cloak moved with elegance and finesse the Knight had never seen before.

_Amazing… She could have held off all three…_

The two briefly exchanged glances, but there was no time to lose. With the phalanx of bugs besieged from the front, the mass of shadows was vulnerable from behind. That is where the two heroes struck. Their weapons cutting swaths in the shadows, the mass's screeches and hisses growing louder. Each strike felt like carving through tar, and seemingly just as pointless. But it was not true. The horde was getting weaker, as the flow of darkness from the well was getting thinner. The Nailsage, having climbed the top of a hut, saw that.

"**They're running out of steam! Come on, bugs! Push back!"**

"**ARU! ARU! ARU!"**

The phalanx moved forward. Step, shove, stab, repeat. They fought together, as one, the front ranks covering themselves and the backline with shields, and stabbing with swords through gaps. The backline wielded their spears, over the shoulders of those in the ground. They began breaking the waves apart, forcing them away from the last hut, where the survivors were hobbled up. A weak, frightened sound of cheer came from behind, as the poor souls did not know if it was too early to celebrate. It gave the soldiers heart.

The tide was turning.

The shadows did not ask for mercy, not they were given any. They died as they existed, uncaring and blank, as they were pierced by nails and needles. The Knight cleaved through some. The mystery warrior wielded a sharp thread, which, like a whip, cut through many in a single swing. Caught between the two forces, the shadows fell. The reinforcements thinned until there was no more. A howl of pain and anger escaped from beneath, from inside of the well, as the tendrils were dragged back, deep underground.

The battle was … finally over. The soldiers cheered, raising their nails into the air, in a triple salute.

What little left of the shadows was dragged back into the abyss, leaving Dirtmouth behind, like a hollow shell. The ground was littered with broken glass, broken doors, rubble, and carcasses of those who were not fortunate enough to escape their homes. In the midst of battle, they were slashed to pieces, what little remained of their shells laying shattered on the ground. The warriors' cheer was joined with a weak and frightened voices of the populace, who now slowly walked out of the shack. Female bugs holding their children close to themselves, and the males going up in the front, though skittish and visibly terrified still.

The ant officer approached the Red Cloak, and fell on one knee, closing all four hands together in front of himself.

"**Reporting in, Lady Hornet. The battle is won and all of your soldiers are accounted for. No casualties."**

The bug in the crimson cloak acknowledged it with a nod, and passed by her soldiers, who all took the knee as well. Though silent so far, and small in stature, she was a fearsome warrior, and a commanding presence. Following their example, the Knight knelt too. It felt so natural… to kneel. A sense of normalcy felt upon committing such a simple motion. He looked down, not daring to raise his eyes at the small, yet powerful creature. The only one who did not was Sly, the Nailmaster. He approached the Lady, carrying his oversized nail on the shoulder, and nodded his head, in a sign of recognition and respect.

"**Thank you for coming to our aid, your Majesty. Without you and your valiant warriors, Dirtmouth would have not survived the night. Thanks to you, the shadows are all gone, back to that accursed well…"**

"**Yes, they are all gone."** – Hornet finally spoke. Her voice suited her, it was both measured and fierce. The princess slowly looked over the people in front of her. The few dozen bug soldiers loyal to her, the frightened but grateful denizens of Dirtmouth, who were all kneeling in the dirt, and then the two defenders who held off the horde for so long.

"**All… but one."**

The Knight looked up. The tip of her sharp needle was pointed… at him.


	12. Chapter 12 - Place Where I Belong

4

OOC: This chapter is shorter than the ones I typically post, but I did not wish to pad it with extra words, and I feel like the next transition deserves a chapter of its own. So, it should come sooner rather than later. Hope you enjoy it, either way!

Chapter 12 – Place Where I Belong

It was a silent stand-off.

Hornet's blade was pointed towards the Knight. It's eyes slowly rose, looking at the crimson bug. In them, one could read a single thing. A question. _Why? _It was a question that bothered the minds of all bugs here. The soldiers and civilians both. Eventually, one had to break the silence.

CHHINK!

The Nailsage's triangular nail met the side of Hornet's needle, pushing the thin, nimble blade aside. The small bug walked and stood between the kneeling knight and the harsh princess of Hallownest. Looking up at her with a tired, yet determined look on his face.

"**My Lady… Ser Knight was good to us. It fought for us during the entire battle, and suffered many an injury for our sakes. With all due respect, I have no idea what are you talking about."**

The rest of the bugs shuffled closer, to stand behind the Knight, close. All looking at the Princess and her band of soldiers with worried looks.

"**S-ser Knight did not let the shadows e-enter out h-home…" – **one of the timid ladybugs spoke out, huddling closer to her terrified husband and child. They were the ones at whose porch the tall bug once tried to make a last stand.

"**It helped around the village before, too. Fixed roofs for no charge…" – **another one said. More of then nodded and whispered in agreement, as the crowd was slowly getting agitated.

"**It saved me when the Shadows were dragging me out to my doom." **– Elderbug entered the conversation. **"Please, Lady Hornet, reconsider. Why point a nail at someone who did us nothing but good?" **– he pleaded with her. The soldiers behind the princess looked at one another. They fought together, just now. The rationale behind their lieges' words escaped them.

Looking at them, then over her shoulder, Hornet nodded slightly, and put the blade away.

"**I know that. Had I not been aware of its actions, my needle would have been in its throat already. The problem is not with what it does. But what it is."**

The murmuring of the crowd went silent, as they now looked at the princess, as she spoke. Her voice was harsh yet eloquent at the same time. Some lowered their heads, feeling as though it was out of place for them to have spoken out in the first place. The Knight never averted its gaze, looking at Hornet, waiting. This time, she looked back at it. Their gazes clashed.

"**I know its kind. Their strength comes from the same source the Shadows come from. While it may not share the same mind with the darkness besieging this place, it may have acted as a lure for others."**

A grim silence fell upon the crowd, when hearing these words. Their faith was visibly shaken. Conflicted murmurs running through them. The Knight did not look over its shoulder, but could hear everything. Unable to withstand Hornet's gaze, the tall bug lowered its eyes down. Not seeing that, a few moments ago, she did, too.

"**The monsters of the abyss are known to me as well. They remained silent and content for ages. The moment this one appeared in your village, they began to stir. One week later, they struck."**

The murmurs grew louder. Some of them were now in discontent. And the Knight… it did not know what to think. Behind its mask, the bug closed its eyes, and shuddered. These words, they hurt more than the injuries sustained in combat. Its slashed shoulder dripping black blood on the ground, one drop at a time. Hornet looked at the creature again. But only briefly. Hiding her eyes behind the darkness of her own mask-like face.

"**Your presence, thus, only endangers this place. For the sake of all bugs living here, you cannot be allowed to stay."**

The sentence rung heavily, like a bell, inside of the Knight's head. For the first time, it looked over its shoulder, at all the people behind. Many of them were still shaken and scared of what just transpired. They did not dare to accuse or insult the tall bug out right, but … there was fear in their eyes now. They averted gazes, afraid to look. Even those considered friends, the Nailsage and the Elderbug, were standing there, looking sorry that they could offer no words or thoughts against the words of the Princess. The Knight's shoulder's drooped, as it slowly turned its head back, and looked at Hornet, who stood there, still as a statue. She looked back, and their eyes met again.

"**You must go. Dirtmouth cannot be your home again, Broken Mask."**


	13. Chapter 13 - For a Place to Call a Home

Chapter 13 – For a Place to Call a Home

THUCK.

The sound of a small pebble hitting glass. Someone kept throwing those. A couple of shouts outside, and the guard chased a passerby away from the hut. The Knight was awake, though. The bug did not sleep, much. Instead, it just laid still on its bunk, inside of Cornifer's and Isolde's hut, their shop closed, for a while. It would have left a while ago, but the Princess was merciful, and gave it a few days to heal the wounds. Dirtmouth was guarded by her little army now, after all. It was not in any danger, as the darkness recoiled back to the depths, and lingered there. The Knight's chest and shoulder was wrapped in its old, silken bandages. The ones the bug had back when it was fished out of the well, weeks ago. Isolde kept those, for some reason, and washed them clean before leaving. They were of good, sturdy material.

THUCK.

The annoying boy came back. His family was devoured during the attack, and this was his little petty attempt at vengeance. Some people in Dirtmouth felt that way. Mostly those who lost someone. Some did not. Most were on the fence. Hornet's little speech about the Knight was… persuasive. Plausible… Believable. _How does she know? What does she know? Broken Mask… _– the Knight wandered where he heard those words before, but dared not to ask. It sat up, and hunched over the small table, dipping its finger in ink, drawing on a piece of used parchment from before. The quill broke a while ago. It was then, when the tall bug heard a rapping against the door, and a light creak as it opened. Fresh air entering the stuffy hut. The Knight shifted towards the front of the hut, where the counter was. Appearing from behind it as if still running the shop.

There were two visitors at the door, one whose faces the Knight quickly recognized. It was Sly the Nail Sage, and the Elderbug. The small bug went in first with no trouble, but the other one had to crouch a little just to squeeze himself through the door. They were carrying something. The tall bug shifted a little, bowing over the counter, looking at them with a mix of amazement and relief. For a moment, it thought they were trouble.

"**Ser Knight, we uhh… came to visit you. Wanted to see you before you have to go, and all… How are you feeling?" – **Sly spoke first, looking at the ground, swiping his foot against the floor. Without the large sword and the brazen attitude shown during battle, the shopkeeper looked much smaller. A bit timid, even, with those drooped shoulders and eyes looking away. As if guilty or something. The Elderbug approached, and put a hand on the smaller bug's shoulder, nodding, in agreement.

"**That's quite right. We could not thank you enough for what you did for us. I… we wanted you to know, that none in the village hate you. Not even those who throw rocks. They are just… hurting. And are all too eager to find someone to blame for it." **– the older bug spoke, in a more solemn voice. The Knight looked up at him, and then looked down, and away. These words were… nice to hear. But not even it would believe them. They were words of comfort; comforting lies to seek refuge in the unknown. The tall bug shook its head a little bit frantically, from one side to another. No! If its presence was a danger to others, then it must go. No matter how much it would hurt. This place, these walls, they were … home. The eyes lingered on the small potted plant on the windowsill, the picture on the wall, the various mundane items placed all around. So dear and precious, they felt. The first home it had in forever. And just outside, there were homes just like this one. Battered and gutted from the inside out by those… things. The Knight breathed out, sharply, making the two other bugs look at one another. This would have been so much easier, had the tall one the ability to speak.

"**We uh… we gathered a few supplies for your journey. Thought you might need them."**

The two brought a bag on the counter, and opened it up. Inside were so many things – bandages, an ink bottle, some new quills and a few parchments, a new cloak, a whetstone, a firestone, and various other things a bug needed on a journey. Many of these items were not sold anywhere except for Sly's shop. Knowing how mercantile the little bug was, the Knight looked at him. The Nail Sage waved his hand dismissively.

"**No charge, no charge, sheesh. It is not like you have a single Geo to your name anyway. Oh… speaking of which…" **– with that, the small bug added a small pouch to the stash.

"**That's uncharacteristically generous of you, Sly." – **the Elder bug commented, sending the smaller one into a flailing frustration.

"**Let none ever say that Sly the shopkeeper let a comrade-in-arms leave empty-handed." – **he said and then looked back at the Knight. **"Besides… I think you earned your share. No matter what the Princess said. The best way to know a bug is to fight them. I fought with and against you, in the span of two days. I know you have a good heart in there, somewhere." – **Sly reached out and poked in the Knight's chest, making it wince a little. **"Ha! Knew it, see?" **

The Elderbug laughed a little at that odd and rare display of affection. Before reaching into the depths of his cloak, and pulling something out. A small box, made of wood. With something glowing inside, through the cracks. Upon opening it, the Knight gazed at a very delicate-looking flower, growing from a bit of earth placed in there, protected from the harsh outside world by the box. The Elderbug smiled a little, looking at it.

"**I did not come empty-handed either. Wanted you to have this. It is something the one that came before you left me. Something to remember it by. As years passed, I discovered I do not need the flower – the Little One's presence was one of the most memorable things to happen to Dirtmouth. But… maybe it could be something you'd remember us by, no?"**

The Knight looked at both of them, astonished. People… had never treated the bug like that, before. It left a warm glow inside its chest. One that was going to be chilled by the inevitable departure. Clumsily walking out from behind the counter, the tall bug knelt before the two, bowing its head as low as it could. It was… the only way to show gratitude that it knew. Sly and Elderbug looked at the Knight, before rushing over and helping it stand back up.

"**No need, no need. Just… you take care of yourself out there, alright? You're gonna return here one day, so keep yourself in one piece, ye hear?" **– Sly shook his tiny fist at the Knight. The Elderbug pulled him a bit away, and bowed, slightly, in reverence.

"**Do not let us distract you from your preparations, Ser Knight. We will be taking our leave. But… my short friend here is right. Dirtmouth will not forget its hero. Until then, we… we'll be waiting for your return." **– the older bug's shoulders shuddered a little, voice reverberating at that last line. The two left in haste, leaving the Knight alone, with these gifts suddenly dropped on it. For a few moments, it gazed at the glowing flower, as if mesmerized by its fragile beauty. A part of it wanted to keep the plant here, where it was safe. But… there was a strange warmth coming from it, making the sadness go away. The Knight barely closed the box, when another figure appeared in the doorway. One the bug recognized well, by now.

"**It is time."**

The warrior Princess came personally to see the Knight off. She brought her needle, and was expecting violence. She always did. But there was not going to be any. Their gazes met, once more, though they were not clashing this time. The red-cloaked bug entered the shop, and slowly looked around, with a studious curiosity. This was someone's home, after all. It was not often she entered homes. Hers was the path of the blade, and the road. Yet… there was something comely about the place. Something precious.

"**You understand this must be done, don't you?" ** \- Hornet said, looking at the figure of the Knight, who hunched over the counter, tying the items left to him into the bag. He nodded, in response. This put the smaller bug a bit more at ease. For inside, she too was full of doubt.

"**Where are you going to go from here?"**

Another question. One at which the Knight paused a little, before reaching out inside the bag, and pulling out the drawing it worked on earlier. Inside, there was a crude child-like picture, of itself, next to Cornifer and Isolde, in front of this very hut. Hornet's eyes narrowed a little, as she recognized them as denizens of Dirtmouth… and that they were no longer here.

"**Even if you will find them, you cannot stay with them here. Your presence endangers the village. Are you still going to look?"**

That question made the Knight pause what it was doing, once more. He let out another loud wheeze, its shoulders rising up a little. Its only hand clenching into a fist, which made Hornet back away a little, her own hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her Needle. Yet the tall bug was not going to fight. Instead, it looked into her eyes, and nodded. Trice. With force and conviction. Seeing that, the crimson bug slowly let go of the hilt again. Her eyes widened underneath the mask, at the silent revelation.

"**I see… I understand."**– she said and walked back towards the door. Looking over her shoulder, briefly, tossing a single line, back:

"**Good luck."**


	14. Chapter 14 - The Mirror Glade

OOC: Thank you very much for all the kind reviews, and letting me know that you are interested in the story! Knowing that keeps me inspired. Hope you like this chapter!

* * *

Chapter 14 – The Mirror Glade

Crack. Crack. Crackle.

The snapping sounds of firewood, burning slowly, as the flames licked its sides, turning them charred. Such a quiet place, with none to disturb its tranquility. A great water surface reflecting the dim rays, which danced on its glade, like on a mirror. Against a rock, next to that fire, a familiar shadow sat. Its nail and belongings placed on the ground next to the figure. In its only hand, a quill. And a piece of paper pressed against the hard, chitinous thigh, serving as impromptu writing pad.

It's been … what, several days now? Deep inside Hallownest, it was hard to tell. Devoid of natural cycles of day and light found on the surface, time was… nonexistent, in this kingdom of perpetuated, frozen decay. The knight cared very little for the lake right now, the attention of its eyes fully upon the parchment. Was it drawing a map of the place? Hardly. To draw a map, one had to know where they were going. Instead, the tall bug worked diligently on that picture from before. Back when the Knight started, all those weeks ago, the only things featured were crude scribbles of the two bugs that took it in. Plain and alone on an empty surface, attached to nothing.

Now… there was more. Silhouettes and images of huts in the background, lampposts here and there, and more bugs. There was a cute small bug next to a big triangle, 2-3 times its size. It looked belligerent. Next to it was a much larger bug, patting it on the head. To the side, there was what at first looked like a fence. But if one paid attention, one could see that the fence had many eyes, limbs, and mouths, and spears poking from all sides. In front of that fence was another small bug, in a cloak. Uncolored, for now. The Knight never figured how to make ink red. This one was the best of the tiny drawings the bug made yet. It was getting better. And yet…

_Strange little bug… So small, yet so fierce… Did I fail you too, somehow?_

It came to Knight in its dreams. Many images of places it had not seen before. From the dream of climbing from the bottomless pit, many others… The buzzling sound, the pale figure… And a mission. A mission worthy of a true Knight. And with it, a heavy feeling, one that the bug could not explain. Like a shard jammed deep, impossible to pull out. But… what was it? Whenever it tried to focus, it vanished, like morning fog. Staring blankly at the picture, the creature carefully brushed the tip of its finger against the image it just created. Carefully removing a tiny smudge that only it could see or consider significant.

Splash.

A sudden sound distracted the Knight, making it lift its head from the paper, and look towards the lake. Was there someone? Another splash. As though an oar was hitting the water glade. Its perfect surface was slightly disturbed, circles traveling over the water. Who'd dare ruin such tranquility. Alarmed and slightly annoyed, the Knight reached out to take the nail, still in scabbards. A few moments later, there were steps.

"**Manama tut'churo namen~"**

A greeting, followed by a slight cough, and the sounds of sand crackling under one's foot. Soon, a silhouette appeared, of an average bug, with an oar on its shoulder. The only peculiar thing about it was a strange hat, that looked like a mask, worn over the top. It had both a face and a mask. The Knight had never seen such before.

"**Ah, ah, no need for nails, fellow traveler. I am merely a ferrybug. Quirrel is my name. I saw a fire on this side of the lake and thought someone needed crossing to the other side… Though, you do not look in a hurry. Mind if I join you?"**

The tall bug tilted its head to the side. A stranger, yet so … friendly? _Company would be nice… _\- a small, almost childlike voice spoke inside of its head. Not willing to resist its persuasion, it nodded towards the fire, as if offering to sit closer. Without much hesitation, the other bug approached, and rested its oar on the ground. Reaching his hands towards the flames.

"**So good to feel a fire warm up your shell after a long day. What is your name, friend?"**

Once more, the Knight shifted, as if wanting to speak, but no sounds escaped its mask. It stopped, and brushed its fingers against its surface, as if trying to convey something. Quirrel nodded, seeing that motion.

"**You cannot speak? What a pity… But then again, the ruins of this old kingdom often produce silent ones. I do not mind, one of your kind was the best company I had. Though… not quite as large."**

Humming in content, the bug pulled out a small bag. In it, were the chopped remains of some tiny critters, too small and too feral to possess a mind. They were both food and currency in these parts. Pinning a couple of them on a stick, Quirrel put them over the fire. Before turning attention to the silent bug on the other side of the fire.

"**You have a look of an adventurer about you. I too was an adventurer, once. Coming from faraway lands, answering a strange call, and distant memories of… this place. I spent so much time here, yet still, cannot piece them together."**

The Knight watched, silently. Though the bug could not express itself with words, its eyes remained fixated on the unlikely companion. Gleaming in the light of the flame, with interest. Wanting to know more of the faraway lands… and of the memories lost. _Is he like me? – _it wondered. Quirrel noticed the interest. Tipping its cracked mask as if it were a hat, between fingers.

"**I wandered these caverns, until I found this place. This beautiful lake. So peaceful, yet so graceful. And so cold at times. I fell in love with it the moment I saw its glade, I could no longer leave. I became a ferryman here, to help other bugs across. There are not many, though. Most of them have the same look you do. Haunted and lost. Their minds shattered by the yellow plague. So hard to piece together, I'd imagine."**

_Yellow… plague?_

The Knight gave Quirrel a puzzled look. The yellow plague? There were mentions of it in Dirtmouth too. A moment later, it looked down. The bug could not remember. Whenever it tried, all imagery was flooded with a bright, yellow light. Sealing away everything that came before. A rumble came from the Knight's chest, an angry one. Quirrel looked at him, and nodded, understanding. He took a bite from his grilled food on a stick, a small crunch escaping it. A pleasant scent, it reminded the tall bug of Iselda's place. It had a … calming presence.

"**Ah… my bad, my bad. Parshaara…" **– the ferrybug apologized. "**I meant to ask… what brought you to this lake? Did you, like I, felt its pull? Or are you simply looking to cross? Or is it… something else?"**

The Knight remained silent, for a little while. Then, it reached for the paper it worked on. Bringing it over, and showing it to Quirrel. Pointing at the two figures with a finger, and a big question mark.

"**I vaguely recognize the village. Is it Dirtmouth? It's been so long, I hardly remember the place. I do not remember the two you are looking for. But I remember this one."**

He pointed at the petite bug with a cloak and a needle.

"**She attacked me when I first came to this land. Thought me for a grave robber or something. So fierce… And yet… I felt a great sadness behind the aggression. Protecting the graveyard of what she once knew."**

_What she once knew… - _the words echoed inside of the Knight's head. Put things into a perspective.

"**But… there might be folks that do know. West of here and a bit below lies another village. Fierce warriors live there – neither beast nor bug of poor wits is allowed passage. I would not recommend going there, friend. Not with your… ah… injury."**

Quirrel did notice the bandages. And the fact that the Knight had only one arm. The tall bug would have frowned, it could, reaching for the shoulder with one hand, and covering it with the cloak. Taking back the picture it drew, and placing it into the bandages. Close to the heart. Quirrel saw that, and nodded.

"**Ah… I see. You are brave indeed, strange one. I doubt my words will deter you. Who are they to you, I wonder..."**

The Knight lowered its head, when asked that, its hand clenching around the scabbard of its nail, shaking a little. A single word came to mind.

_Family…_


	15. Chapter 15 - When Everyone Else is Gone

OOC: Hello again, my dears. Apologies for being quiet. I have been wrestling with a bit of a writer's block. I've been seeing you look at the story even when I didn't post anything for weeks. Thank you for being so patient with me 3 Hope you like this chapter!

* * *

Chapter 15 – When Everyone Else is Gone

"**Heave-ho! Come on! We have to finish before the day is out! Princess's orders!"**

For once, the slow and lazy atmosphere of Dirtmouth was dispelled with activity. The small village was being busy. Soldiers were moving and heaving stones from the surrounding countryside, building a rough, rugged wall around the place. Some of the civilians were there too, pitching buckets and mortar, to help in the construction effort. Inch by inch, the wall was rising from the ground up, surrounding the village in its belt.

Hornet was not present at the construction. The craft always felt strange and foreign to her. Very physical, very rough, no finesse. Her lieutenant, the Ant, was much better at it than she could ever hoped to become. Thus, the task of building the defensive wall was left to him. The Princess spent the day occupying Iselda and Cornifer's shop. The place where the Knight used to stay. She was … curious. In her travels, Hornet was used to the austerity of the road. This was almost… lavish. And yet, at the same time, it was not. Just a collection of useful junk, compared to the splendor of the White Palace. The place she once knew. And now it was gone, all of it.

_And I am here. A princess of a useless ruin. Commander of a dozen rejects. And protector of the Realm. All because of it…_

Hornet crumpled one of the papers she held in her hands. It was one of the few drawings left behind. Created by a large, clumsy hand, simple and child-like in design and nature. For a brief moment after, the bug felt a pang of guilt for ruining it, and so she unfolded it and straightened it across the table. Was it a mistake to have let it go? Back then, in the aftermath of a great battle, she was content to do so. Many in Dirtmouth supported the decision. Including the town elder and the Nailsage, of all people. But now, when the dust settled, she was no longer sure. Old grudges started to weight in. It was then, when she heard … a voice.

"_Do you still hate your sibling, my child?"_

Hornet sighed. She knew that voice. It was the voice of her reason. More often than not, it took the appearance of her mother. Herrah's voice. She could almost see her image in a shadow on the wall. The question made her think. The princess remained quiet, for a while.

"**I want to." **– she hissed out, finally. **"All of this is its failure. It was supposed to contain the light. It did not. And it brought us all to ruin."**

A soft chuckle followed, making Hornet stare acidly at the shadow flickering in the light of a floating lumafly lamp on the table. That chuckle made her feel ridiculed, as if she were still a child. Was her own consciousness laughing at her?! It ended soon, and the voice spoke again.

"_When a nail is broken, who is to bear the blame? The smith, who did not make the weapon as strong as needed? Or the warrior, who used it without care? Or, perhaps, the nail itself, for not living up to the expectations? We have broken so many blades, to make this one…"_

Hornet's hands balled into fists.

"**It is a person. And a person can be held responsible, for success or failure."**

"_We did not treat them as such. What was the word we used for them? Ah yes… vessels. Like pottery. Would you have preferred to take its place?" _

Hornet remembered the ceremony. She was there, when mother was put to sleep. Along with Monomon the Teacher, and Lurien the Watcher. They laid to rest, to guard the vessel. A tall, stately knight, in brilliant white armor. Chains wrapped around it, and lifted into the air. It stared at the King – the father, the queen – the mother, and her – the sister. With a stoic, resolute, and apathetic gaze. Were there regrets? None. This was what it was made to do. The door was sealed, it sentenced into darkness and solitude, for all of eternity. As Hallownest was supposed to last eternal. As the door inside her memory closed with a loud clang, the princess shuddered.

"**No."**

"_Then do not judge. The fault lies elsewhere. With the King, who in his hubris thought to contain a God. With Queen Mother, who took part in creating so many vessels, and letting them break without care. And… with me. With all of us, who followed along this path, without protest, or regret. Blame me, if you must, my child. If it will help one through the misery I brought upon you."_

Hornet listened to the voice in silence. She sat down, and wrapped her red cloak around herself, clenching eyes shut. Waiting for the voice to go away, and for that painful feeling inside her chest to subside. And yet, it did not. She could almost feel someone's gentle fingers brush against the side of her mask.

"_My dear Hornet, I am so very sorry. Your father is gone, as am I. As are thousands of your siblings, sacrificed to that… pit. Leaving you to make up for the mistakes we made. Only one of your family is left, that poor, broken nail. When it is gone, you will be completely alone."_

Hornet opened her eyes, again. The vision was gone. The shadow on the wall, so long and animated the moments before, was now perfectly normal, flickering and twitching, but not forming any shapes beyond the ordinary. The voice… was no longer heard. She was the only one in this hut, with her thoughts. Alone. Completely alone. The walls suddenly felt very narrow, suffocating even. She wanted out.

A few moments later, the princess walked out of the place. Her Needle on her back, as well as the small pack she always carried. The noises of construction invading her ears, and the dust making her eyes narrow. Lieutenant was busy coordinating the workers, shouting orders and offering a shoulder, whenever necessary. So industrious, she thought. It was the reason why the Ant was her most trusted lieutenant. The wall was his idea, entirely. Soon enough, he noticed the princess, and approached, standing at attention.

"**My Lady, the work is progressing as scheduled. The initial fortifications should be complete by nightfall."**

Hornet looked at the wall, and then at him.

"**You have done very well…" **– she said quietly, an uncharacteristic appraisal, which almost caught the Ant off-guard. **"I want you and the troops to guard this village, until my return. Treat the locals well – they are our citizens, and we have a duty to protect them."**

The ant thumped his fist against his chest, and nodded, in acknowledgement.

"**We will do as you command, Princess. Where are you planning to go, where we can't follow? And when can we expect your return?"**

Hornet shrugged, at that last inquiry, and simply replied:

"**Family business."**


	16. Chapter 16 - Mantis Village

OOC: Hello again friends, it's been a while. I wonder if anyone is still following this story, after my lengthy silence. I was very heartwarming to receive a couple of reviews from you, even though I did not deserve such. Here's a new chapter to continue the adventure of our amnesiac Knight. I will see this story to an end, eventually 3 Hope you will enjoy it.

* * *

Chapter 16 – Mantis Village

"**This is dull…"**

"**Shut up."**

"**Nobody ever comes through here."**

"**Be quiet!"**

"**Why? We're in the middle of nowhere! It's not like anyone's gonna hear!"**

**"Because you annoy me. And if you don't stop, I will cut you in half."**

Two voices bickered with one another from behind a small bush, which was on the road to one of the most inhospitable places in Hallownest – the Mantis village. It belonged to, unsurprisingly, two mantises, which guarded the road from the East. Their shells and their claws were shiny and new, not yet carrying the chips and scars of glorious battles in defense of the village. One of them sat on a rock, and sharpened one of the claws against the other, while another kept an eye on the road… sometimes. When not bickering with his partner.

"**Being cut in half sounds more fun than being stuck around here… How come we're never the ones to guard the entrance to the Deepnest? Don't you want some glory and kills to your name Olrik?" **– the impatient one pouted.

"**Tch. Of course I do."** – the other one groaned back. "**Complaining about it to me for hours on end won't change the situation much. Face it Mekta, we're rookies. Nobody's gonna send rookies to guard the Deepnest route! All we can do is sit here and look busy. Should any surprise inspection come, they will see us dutifully alert, and not screwing around."**

"**What are we waiting for anyway?"**

"**The dark ones."**

The two went quiet for a little while. Their village had been under siege for so long. First it was the ones with glowing eyes, they wandered about mindlessly and usually died at their claws. Then, they were replaced by the dark ones. Those were more … numerous. But still not a match for the mighty mantises, who were at war for who knows how long…

Shink. Shink. Shiiiiiiink.

The scraping sound of claw against claw. It made Mekta flinch every time.

"**Would you stop doing that?"**

"**What, I'm sharpening my claws."**

"**You've been sharpening your claws for the past three hours. They're not gonna get sharper."**

"**Well you're complaining for 3 hours and your mouth isn't tired yet. Maybe you should do something more useful with it."**

"**Har har. Wait! Shhh… get down. I think I see someone!"**

Suddenly, the two mantises became serious and hit the ground. Hiding in the bush, through which they had a nice view of the road. In the distance, appeared a figure. It grew and grew, until they could figure out its silhouette. It was a bug, it looked like. A tall one. A cloak draping in the wind, tattered, flapping with its cut bits. On its back – a nail. Large one. Olrik and Mekta looked at one another, gulping.

"**Think it's a dark one?"**

"**Don't know, can't tell. They come in many shapes… Usually in numbers."**

"**Think we can take it?"**

"**You don't even know if it's friendly or not."**

"**Who cares, it's an outsider. Maybe if we kill it, we'll show our worth to the village!"**

"**I don't think we should…"**

"**C'mon, don't be a ladybug. There's two of us, one of him. I'll distract it, you hit it from behind with your sharp claws. Let's go let's go!"**

With that, the brave mantis leaped up from the bush before his friend could pull him back. Appearing in front of the cloaked figure. Looking up, and pointing his claw at him. Up close, the stranger looked scary. That sword was as tall as he was! But, the cloak did not cover one of the shoulders, which featured a silken bandage in place of an arm.

_Heh, he's a cripple! This should be easy!_

"**Halt stranger! You've stepped into the territory of Mantis village! If you are looking for swift death – congratulations! You have found it. Hayah!"**

The Knight looked at the mantis with a mix of surprise and disbelief. Not because he was small, or used claws for the weapon. It was just … strange to be threatened by another bug. In three days of travel from the lake to here, it faced many shadows… But this was the first time in a while its life was assailed by a bug. Before it could attempt to negotiate, those claws already swung at it. He backed away, dodging to the left and to the right, just a fraction faster than the blows themselves. Drawing Mekta away with it. The mantis swung, exasperatedly, expecting an easy fight.

"**Hey! Just… stand… still… will … you. ACK!"**

Bonk. The Knight's heavy fist landed on top of the mantis's head. Its force was sufficient enough to drop the smaller bug on his rear, pushing its head and neck into shoulders, mandibles twitching in different directions. Mekta flinched, and rubbed its head with its claws. Before it could recuperate, another hit caught him square in the face, leaving a fist-sized imprint and knocking him a few feet away, landing on his back. Eyes rolling in different directions, as suddenly the entire world spun around the mantis.

"**Nerhhhhh… wha… where am I? Who am I? Who are you…" **– he muttered in confusion, and the Knight looked at his 'challenger,' looking equally confused. Soon, he noticed another mantis running from the same bush. Warily, the tall bug reached for its sword. It did not want to harm these people, but if they were to continue assaulting, the Knight would have no choice. _Why are they attacking? _– it wondered. But then remembered his talk with Quirrel, the ferrybug. He mentioned the Mantis village was aggressive…

_He did not mention them being … inept._

If only the Knight could speak, those words would've stung. But the other mantis that appeared seemed less eager for battle. Waving its claws in different directions, and trying to make a cross sign for stopping. Indeed, soon the yelling reached the tall bug's ears.

"**Stop the fighting! Stop the fighting!"**

"**Fighting…? Huuhhh…? Did I win…"**

"**No, you didn't, you moron. You got beaten by a one-armed bug. Erm… no offense."** – Olrik looked up at the Knight, who looked back, waiting for an explanation to this encounter. He coughed a little, and nodded towards the mantis sprawled on the ground.

"**I'm Olrik, this here is Mekta. We're Mantis village patrol sent to guard this road. My friend thought you were a Dark One and…"**

"**Actually… I thought it'd be an easy kill and I… OW!"**

"**Shut up Mek… Anyway… On behalf of my friend here, I humbly apologize for the assault. But… who are you? What is your business in the Mantis Village? You look like a Nest bug, but not a City bug… None of them are this … tall."**

"**None of them fight well either… Ugh… my face…"**

The Knight looked at the smart talking one, then at the stupid one on the ground, thinking a little, before extending his hand for the fallen, picking him up by the scruff of his neck and putting him back on his feet. Brushing off dust in a few swift strokes against the shell, embarrassing and flustering Mekta to no end.

"**H-hey! No need for your help, mom! I can stand for myself…"**

Having done then, and looking at Olrik, the Knight reached into his bag, and pulled out the same sheet of paper it showed everyone on the way. One with all the people of Dirtmouth together like on a collective photo. A circle was drawn around Iselda and Cornifer, too. Olrik squinted a little, looking at the two.

"**Huh… don't think I've ever seen those two before. Are you looking for them? Maybe someone in the village seen them! You should… probably come with us. There's a few patrols further down the road, just as opportunistic as we are. And we cannot afford to lose 20 people like last time, attacking the wrong kind of guy."**

"**Oh, you're talking about the Tiny Terror?" **– Mekta asked, as he finally got his bearings together.

"**Yes, that. And if he tore us a new rearhole, imagine what this dude can do to us?"**

"**Yeah, no kidding… Say… mind if you keep this a secret, big guy? Would be a bad start for our careers for everyone to know we got our ass kicked…"**

"**Speak for yourself, my fight history remains pristine."**

"**Mhm, with a grand total of 0 confirmed kills. Anyway, what's your name? You never said … anything, actually."**

The knight looked at the two, and let out an inaudible sigh, its chest rising and falling. Then, it tapped at its mouth. The two mantises' eyes widened, and they nodded in understanding.

"**Oooh… a cripple and a mute! That's harsh, bug…"**

"**Mek, you're being disrespectful. Still… the village's right over there, across the mound. Follow us and uhh… don't pull your nail out just yet. We'll get you through."**

With that, escorted by the Mantis village's finest warriors, the Knight made its way towards the famed place. Quietly wondering if all mantises were like this. Though, the heads on pikes flanking the road ever since he got here seemed to suggest otherwise…


End file.
